


Best Intentions

by Zhie



Series: Bunniverse [35]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bunniverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 15:06:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1652930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/pseuds/Zhie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A group of friends has a discussion, mostly about what they think ellith should or should not do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Intentions

“My intention was not to be late, alas, here I finally am.” Maedhros spoke after ducking behind the waterfall, into a hewn out area where an elite group met every now and then.

“What kept you?” asked Aegnor, rising up to embrace Maedhros briefly.

“My father. As usual.” In a mocking sort of tone, he recounted his father’s words. “‘Maedhros, come I have something to show you. It is even more wondrous than the last. Stop dawdling! Your brothers have assembled already!’”

“What was it?” Angrod asked, having remained unmoved from where he lounged upon a heap of soft moss. He discretely turned away as Maedhros and Fingon hugged one another and shared a simple kiss.

“How should I know? It all appears the same to me. Maglor agrees, but of course, will never say that.”

“Where is your brother?” Fingon asked, for on occasion the second son of Feanor joined their little group.

Maedhros settled down in front of Fingon and rested his red-head back upon his cousin’s shoulder. “He offered to watch the Ambarussa duo for Nana so that she could visit her friends. Father wanted all of us to help him with his latest project, but he changed his mind when Amras dropped a hammer on his foot.”

That Maedhros was now smirking was not missed by his cousins. “Having been in Uncle Feanor’s crafthouse,” spoke Angrod, “I find it hard to believe that there was a hammer misplaced somewhere that your young brother could have picked it up.”

“Perhaps someone handed it to him,” suggested Maedhros. His grin was contagious.

“Russandol, you are mad!” scolded Aegnor from his perch on some small boulders. Angrod nodded in confirmation. Still, Maedhros only chuckled.

When he sobered himself, Maedhros leaned further into Fingon, who had taken to stroking his lover’s hair. “I had to get out of there. Things are tense between my parents.”

Maedhros’ silence caused Fingon to speak. “Is it because of us?”

"Absolutely not. These are my parents, not yours," Maedhros said as he began to play with Fingon's hair as well.

“So what is the matter, then?” asked Aegnor.

“My mother, according to my father, and vice versa if you ask her. You know she gave Amras and Amrod names recently. Well, Ada thinks they each need a separate name.”

“That makes sense,” agreed Angrod. “It could be confusing for them later.”

“Sure, if they both use the same one,” Maedhros agreed. “But, I am sure they will not. Besides, they are twins, they are always together anyway. They both answer to Ambarussa. Most of us think it is cute, actually. I think Curufin started it; he was the one to voice concern before father even said anything to mother.”

Aegnor reached down to take a handful of berries from a bowl that sat at the center of the group. “All she needs to do is come up with another name for one of them. It sounds simple enough.”

“She refuses. She also told him that they share a fea; that set father off. You should have heard how adamant she was that neither will ever marry, and that they are one in the same, split between two bodies. He was absolutely furious and stayed in his workshop for three days straight. When he finally came back,” continued Maedhros, accepting a raspberries that was held to his lips by Fingon, “he asked her again, and somehow it erupted into an argument over the fact she was not a breeding mare and was not going to have any more children.”

“Oooo.”

“Ouch.”

Stretching his arms so that his fingertips grazed the spilling water of the fall, Angrod shook his head. “Your mother is so strange, Maedhros. My mother was overjoyed when she was pregnant with Aegnor, and once again when she had Artanis. Same with Aunt Anaire when she had Aredhel.”

“Obviously she loves all of us, but I can see her point. My father is always either roaming about, gone for years at times, or fiddling with jewels or metals or something. She has spent a long, long time taking care of the house and the family. It seems sometimes he only becomes affectionate when the latest child has come of age.”

“Maybe it is because he does not want to see her lonesome, and he knows that if she has a child to take care of, then she will not be,” offered Angrod.

“Trust me, with seven children all still living at home because their father insists that they stay there, there is no possible way for her to be lonesome. Just meals and laundry keep her well aware of the fact she is not alone.”

Angrod stared blankly at Maedhros. “Well, what else does she think she is supposed to be doing? It is her duty to take care of her husband, children and home.”

“Angrod, do us a favor and never get married,” said Fingon. His other companions laughed as Angrod merely snorted and rolled his eyes. “Seriously, your view of ellith is askew.”

“My view is just fine, and I will find one that enjoys being a mother and a wife.”

“Let us hope the Valar have cursed you with one who fancies hunting and riding and... and... what is something else they should not be doing?”

Before Fingon had time to come up with something or solicit answers from the others, Angrod pointed at him triumphantly. “Ha! You said it yourself! Things they should NOT be doing!”

“A slip of the tongue,” attempted Fingon. “What I meant was...” His cheeks were turning red, and Aegnor chuckled.

Maedhros poked his cousin’s arm and shook his head. “You, too? This is because of your sister.”

“I worry about Aredhel,” Fingon confessed. “I want her to have a nice, safe life. There is no reason she needs to go hunting; there is no reason she needs to ride such big horses so fast. I worry about her.”

“At least your sister still acts like a girl the rest of the time,” piped up Aegnor. “I think Artanis would have been happier if she would have been born a boy. You know, she wears pants sometimes.”

“Ew.”

“And Erestor lets her?”

Aegnor nodded. “She is REALLY weird. Maybe Erestor likes her wearing pants.”

“I think Erestor is just afraid of her, and too afraid to give his own opinions to her sometimes,” said Angrod.

“Afraid of her? I heard what happened, on numerous occasions,” spoke Fingon. “The whole lot of you, Orodreth and Finrod included, cornered Erestor and threatened him with a great deal of pain and suffering if he so much caused her to shed a single tear.”

“So?” asked Aegnor with a grin, fondly recalling a few of the times that had happened.

“So, someday that is going to come back and haunt you,” warned Maedhros. He sighed, and stood up. “As much as I would prefer to stay, if I do not bring home something for supper, my mother will be as furious with me as my father is.”

“What are you hunting?” asked Angrod, standing up as well. His brother soon joined him.

“Whatever runs very slow, for I have no desire to go chasing after things this afternoon.”

“We shall help,” offered Fingon, and the others nodded.

A grin struck Angrod, who then said as they left their alcove, “Fingon, maybe we should call your sister, have her do the hunting for us.”

“Sure, but then we best call yours to scare the game out of hiding.” Fingon was shoved by Angrod, but he only laughed. Their jesting continued as the four friends headed into the forest.


End file.
